


Four and Six

by Re0rient



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Re0rient/pseuds/Re0rient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tris and Four go through her fear landscape, and she realizes that a certain fear is missing, much to Four's delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four and Six

Tris skulks through the flower-filled, too-bright hallways of the Amity compound. She listens to the light chatter and footsteps of a group of people probably heading to their dorms for the night and ducks into an empty room next to her. If one of the yellow-clad newly initiated were to run into her and attempt to strike up a conversation, well, she just might forget that part of the new Dauntless training was knowing how to use one's strength. When the laughter fades down the hallway and Tris is confident the corridor is abandoned once more, she leaves the dark room, quietly closes the door behind her, and continues on her way to the simulation area.

  
Amity has a whole wing of their headquarters assigned to simulations, but unlike the Dauntless, their simulations are dedicated to conquering anger, not fear. It's harder than everyone thinks, to be as peaceful as the Amity. However, somehow Tris could tell the peace was tense, fragile, like it could be shattered at any moment. Like the Dauntless, Amity had strayed from the ideals of the original faction. Instead of working towards solving conflict in an amicable manner, they avoid conflict at all costs, even if it means sacrificing what one thinks is right.

Nothing is ever as it seems.

Tris rolls her eyes as she pushes back the pink curtains isolating the makeshift Dauntless sector from the rest of the Amity compound. She misses the shady caverns and cold dorms she used to call home. At this point, she would rather have the dull gray of Abnegation than the pastel hues preferred by Amity.

Oh, right. There is no Abnegation. All that's left of the selfless faction has mixed in with the Dauntless, creating a melting pot of black and gray, except they weren't melting. More like wandering aimlessly while the Dauntless continued on with their lives. And if there is anything Dauntless hates, it is those who wander aimlessly when there is work to be done. Tris could not count on her fingers the number of times she's had to resolve faction conflicts in the past week.

Most of the Dauntless are asleep, probably worn out by a full day of simulations. It's basically impossible for the daredevil faction to seek thrills in their new 'home,' amongst the (at least to the outsiders) lethargy inducing flowers, twangy guitar music, and the aversion to danger. And although they could venture out of the compound and nearly get killed by their old comrades who have turned to the Erudite, which would certainly be classified as a thrill, Four, who had unwillingly become a Dauntless leader alongside Tris, prefers that the already diminished faction not flirt with death. There's a difference between self-preservation and cowardice, he said.

So they turned to the simulation rooms willingly donated by the Amity, and with a few adjustments they went back to facing their worst fears and nightmares, along with new training programs developed by Four. Tonight, Tris will go through her fear landscape for the first time since she was initiated. And a very special someone is going with her. Finally at her intended destination, Tris pulls back the black curtain isolating Sim Room One and finds her familiar, muscular Four waiting for her.

"You're late," he teases, a twinkle lighting up his eyes when he sees her.

"Sorry," Tris replies without a trace of apology on her face. "Had to avoid some Amity on my way here."

"It's fine." Four's relaxed demeanor tenses into something much more serious. "You ready?"

Tris picks up the two orange syringes off the table next to her and gives one to Four. She sits on the crooked bench in the room and tilts her head to expose her neck to him, a sign of her implicit trust. Baring one's neck to someone, when he or she knows that person has the power to stab you, is a sure sign of one's confidence. Four grazes his fingers over a column of skin at the base of her neck, causing shivers to erupt throughout her body. Which he notices, of course. He notices _everything_. But he ignores her reaction and injects her with the simulation serum. Tris does the same for him and he sits on the bench, which creaks beneath their combined weight. Feeling the serum pulsing in her veins, she answers his question.

"No. But I don't think I'll ever be."

And with that she grabs his hand and the two of them enter the world of her fears.

Four unwillingly lets goes of her hand as they hear the calls of the birds. The guttural sounds made by the winged creatures rankle Tris, but she knows she cannot allow them to wrest control away from her. She must stay calm. The birds swarm around them and Tris pulls Four down to crouch with her on the grassy slope. Power pulses through their fingertips and two metal guns appear in the vegetation next to them. Tris and Four pick up the guns and, back to back, begin shooting at the swirling swarm of birds. One bird after the other falls.

With the familiar feeling of taking down an enemy, Tris calms down and the two of them stand in the dark as the scene fades away.

Then, Tris and Four are standing in a tank. She reaches out and her hands meet the cold, unyielding glass surrounding them. Water starts swelling around their ankles, suspending the two, but Tris doesn't give herself enough time to panic. She immediately balls her hands into fists and slams them against the glass with all her might.

The glass shatters and the dark returns.

"I finished that fear much faster than last time," she whispers as they wait for the next fear to form.

"Soon you'll have only six," he says, a hint of a smile on his face.

An ocean of water begins to swallow them up. Tris and Four cling to the jagged rock below them, but an icy wave pounds them and Tris loses her grip. Four catches her under her arms and pulls her back up onto the outcropping as the two of them start to run. Tris forces herself to ignore the way the crimson red moon appears to be blood when reflected in the water, and how easily it could become her blood, or Four's. _Stay in control, Tris. Stay in control._ She reminds herself it's just another way the simulation tries to mess with her head and makes herself calm down.

Soon, the simulation fades and they are running into nothingness.

"Your fears so far are all about losing control," Four remarks neutrally.

"Don't analyze me, Tobias."

"I can't help it, Tris. It's the teacher in me."

They run into a wall.

Rope binds Tris' appendages together so that she cannot flee. She looks around, noticing the stacks of firewood piled around her. Four is hurled out of the ring of lumber and he slams into the reddish rocky cliff. When he manages to roll over, Erudite corpses ascend from the shadows, bearing torches and chanting unintelligible words. The blue uniformed figures march mechanically toward Tris. Will and Al, the only ones clad in Dauntless black, rise out of the faceless crowd. Will stamps a booted foot on Four's chest, forcing him to groan in pain. Their eyes are dark and emotionless as Al sets his torch down on the wood, causing bright flames to flicker in the darkness. As the fire spreads, the heat combines with Tris' mindless panic and cold sweat sheathes her body from head to toe.

"You just had to kill me, Tris," Will states in a mocking tone. "Had everything going for me for _once_ in my life. Was about to be made Dauntless, was getting serious with Christina, and you had to end it all."

Tris can't bring herself to return Will's anger because she believes him. She believes everything he says and she is angry with herself for killing him. So she stays silent, trying to block out his words.

"But I won't kill you, Tris. Why should I, when I can let you watch your boyfriend's death? It's only right. Christina deserves to see you suffer." Will kicks Four in the chest, causing him to shout in pain.

Will and Al double over with laughter as Tris struggles futilely against the ropes smothering her, trying to get to Four. Four takes advantage of their momentary distraction and forces Will's foot off of him. Will falls backward into the nondescript Erudite still monotonously chanting behind them and drowns in the sea of bodies. Four then stands with little difficulty and shoves Al in after Eric.

A cold, female voice reverberates through the smoke engulfing Tris.

"You cannot win, Beatrice Prior." Jeanine.

Four turns and walks through the ring of fire. "Tris," he says, trying to wake her from her fear-induced paralysis. " _Tris_."

Tris looks at him as if waking up from a deep sleep. She looks straight into his clear blue eyes and drawing on his strength, she wills the ropes to fall away from her scorched body. Which they do. "You're wrong," she shouts hoarsely. Then, in a quieter voice, but with more conviction, "I can't win _alone_." And with that, she grasps Four's hands in her own and rain begins to fall from the clouds pooling in the sky. The two of them smile as the cool water drenches their parched skin.

But the rain stops eventually, and all too soon, they stand in darkness again.

This is new. Tris and Four look around the cavernous interior of the old Dauntless headquarters. Behind them they hear the familiar rushing river that flows at the bottom of the Pit, the dark, freezing Pit that claimed the lives of so many Dauntless initiates. In front of them stand millions of clones of the scarred men from the aptitude test, stoically standing side by side. Instinctively, she knows that walking forward means death. But so should falling backward.

Tris turns around and watches the rapids far below them. She doesn't understand. She is not afraid of heights.

"Take control, Tris," reminds Four. "Be brave."

Tris looks at him, reads the fear on his face as he looks down at certain death, and knows what she must do. Take control. Thinking of her first Dauntless rite of passage, she steps off the ledge, taking Four with her. Then they are falling, but unlike the Dauntless Pit, they are plunging downward through a void with no end in sight. The river has disappeared. Chilly winds jerk them back and forth through the darkness. Tris' eyes water and she closes them, since she can't see anything anyway. She lets out a scream. She loves heights, but not this type of falling, where she can't see the finish.

She feels Four squeeze her hand and realizes what her true fear is. It's the lack of control, the unknown, the abyss. He pulls her into his embrace and presses her forehead to his chest. She concentrates on the lubdub of his heart beating and slowly, her own heart rate begins to slow down. And finally, they land in a net at the bottom, their legs absorbing the impact of the fall.

The simulation fades to darkness once again.

A gun on the table next to her clicks as it loads up with ammo. This fear is the one with her family. The one Tris was most afraid, yet most anxious, to face. She curls her fingers tightly around the weapon, letting her index finger rest on the trigger. The light flickers on and only Caleb stands in front of her. Once again she hears Jeanine's voice telling her to do what she cannot do. Kill her brother.

Caleb joins Jeanine in telling her to do it. He understands. She should do it. It's only a simulation, after all. But look at the rueful smile painted on his face. Look at his warm, compassionate grayish blue eyes, a carbon copy of her own. And she knows she can't allow herself to be responsible for her beloved brother's death, even if it's not real.

"No," Tris spits out at the unseen voice. She looks at Caleb, then Four, who stands quietly off to the side, waiting for her response. "I can't." His calm blue eyes watch her, not betraying any emotion, and she turns back to Caleb. Jeanine's voice begins counting down.

"Do it, Tris," Caleb says. "It's okay."

"But it's not. I. Am. Divergent." Tris points the gun to her forehead, feeling the cold, hard metal press against her skin. She pulls the trigger and falls to the floor.

For the last time the simulation fades to darkness.

When Tris opens her eyes, she finds herself sitting in the gloom of Sim Room One, with Four by her side. Tears sting her eyes, but before she can wipe them off her face, he brushes them away for her. She refuses to look at him. He lets his fingers rest on her cheek, caressing the skin beneath. Four waits for her to speak.

"Why?" she whispers. "Why must my own mind twist Will and Al and turn them into murderous people who want to kill you and me? I was happy remembering them as they were, their laughter, their goofy grins, and then this simulation has to make me _hate_ them for hurting you. I already beat myself up everyday when Christina walks right by me like I don't exist."

Four takes Tris into his arms and lets his shirt absorb her tears.

"And what's even worse, is that she's still struggling with her Candor upbringing to not tell me how much she hates me for taking Will away from her, and you for still _living_ when he is dead. She's still in pain, and it's because she doesn't want to hurt me."

Four presses his chapped lips to her silky smooth hair and rubs his hand up and down her back, trying to calm her down. He wishes more than anything that he could take on her burden for her. He wants to tell her that Christina will get over it eventually, that one day she'll take her place by their side as not only a Dauntless leader, but their friend. That everything will go back to normal. But he knows nothing can ever go back to the way it was. And he _hates_ that he can't promise Tris the world.

After a long silence, Tris speaks again. "I usually see my mother and father with Caleb in that last fear." Tris closes her eyes and tries to remember what her parents looked like. She can still picture her mother in her mind's eye, but slowly, the memories were fading away. And that scares her. "I sort of wanted to go through my fear landscape tonight, because-well, because-" she stutters. Tris pulls away and looks up at Four. "I wanted to see them again. I barely remember what they look like anymore, Tobias."

"They're gone because you're not afraid of being the reason for their deaths anymore."

Tris shivers as she thinks of their gruesome ends: her mother, riddled with bullets, falling to the pavement and lying in a puddle of her own blood, and her father, who wasn't fast enough, still trying to shoot at the robotic guards when the life in his eyes fizzled out. And what did Tris do in both situations? She ran.

"Because they're dead. I'm not afraid of being the reason. I am the reason."

He pushes her stray hairs away from her face and stares directly into her piercing blue eyes. "Don't think like that, Tris. They sacrificed themselves willingly. Your mother was Dauntless, the brave. Your father was Abnegation, the selfless. I'm sure, given another chance, they wouldn't have it any other way."

Tris knows it's true, but his words don't make her feel much better. Maybe that was the problem. She's being selfish. Maybe she should stop thinking about herself and her feelings. Maybe she should-

"You're thinking too hard, Tris," Four teases, battling the smile forming on his face.

"Fight with me."

"What?"

"Fight with me."

"Tris-"

Interrupting his response, Tris punches him in the jaw with her right fist and stands, ready to block his coming offense. Not one to disappoint, Four jabs back because he's never been one to stand down from a fight, even in those instances where he's almost certain he'll lose, let alone those where he's sure he'll win. She blocks the blow with her forearm, barely noticing the sting when he hits her. Relentless, Four continues to throw punches, slowly draining Tris' energy as she blocks each one. Tris grabs his wrist, stopping him mid-punch, and knees him in the stomach, forcing a grunt out of him as all the air in his lungs gets pushed out.

Four quickly recovers and delivers an uppercut to her ribs with an audible crack, causing her to stumble. He genteelly allows her a fraction of a second to recover. "You know, right now I'm regretting teaching you how to fight. You've gotten pretty good, Stiff." As he winks at her, she moves to elbow him, but he clasps his hand around her lower arm and twists it around, at which she yelps in pain. Tris, thinking fast, swivels and elbows him with her other arm, taking Four by surprise. He makes a mistake and lets go, and she kicks him hard in the shins. He buckles at the force and falls to the cement floor. Tris drops on top of him, pinning his hands down, rendering him unable to move.

Breathing hard, she asks in a voice specifically designed to rile him up, "Give up?" And because Four never gives up, he responds, "Fuck no," and uses his significantly larger body mass to throw her off him. Both of them scramble off the floor, already anticipating the other's next move. It's almost like a dance for them, the exchange of punches and jabs and kicks, assessing your opponents strengths and weaknesses. It all happens with a fluidity rivaled by the professional dancers of ancient times, twirling around in the arms of their partners, just minus the battle scars. He spins and does a roundhouse kick targeting her lower back, and taking advantage of the pain momentarily distracting her, he hooks his foot around the back of her knee and pulls so that she should fall, except he catches her in his arms and sits them down on the bench.

Tris gets the feeling that he's been humoring her.

"You-"

Four interrupts her words and closes the gap between them, kissing her hungrily. She responds, sucking and nibbling at his bruised lower lip as her fingers intertwine in his chocolate brown hair, damp with sweat from exertion. She smiles against his lips, knowing that at least she put up a good fight. The salty tears she had been holding back rub off on his cheeks, stinging just a little, but both are too lost in their own world to care anymore. His hands slide down her back and rest on the patch of feverish skin exposed beneath her shirt. He easily lifts her up onto his lap and she wraps her legs around him, shoving her tongue into his mouth and toying with him, when the bench snaps in two and they tumble to the floor, landing on the splinters below.

"Damn," Four breathes out, his heart racing. He leans his face against her neck in exasperation. Somehow they always manage to get interrupted, by the Amity, by the Dauntless, by furniture, by every single fucking person and thing in the universe. How hard could it possibly be for the world to just leave them alone, let them have peace, just once? Four lifts his head when he hears Tris chuckling quietly to herself. "Why are you laughing?" he asks in an accusatory voice.

"Because," she murmurs against the rough stubble on his cheek, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down to meet her, "I only have six fears now." At Four's mildly confused look, she elaborates, "I'm not afraid to be with you anymore." He puts two and two together. And grins. And leaves trails of kisses down her neck, eliciting a soft sigh from Tris, before pressing his lips against her ear, whispering inaudible words like a little child sharing secrets. Her eyes widen as he speaks, before she playfully slaps him away. "Not here, Tobias!"

He whines petulantly, "Why not?"

Tris ignores how childish he sounds and answers, "Because we are leaders and have images to protect? Could you imagine if someone were to walk in on us here, right now?" Four refrains from telling her that he doesn't have a care in the world if someone were to walk in them, because he'd just snap that person's neck and be done with it.

Instead, he grumbles, "Fine," gets up, carefully not touching the splinters, and holds out his hand to help Tris up. "My room is closer." She laughs, grabs his hand, and twists his arm around just enough to surprise him. Then she kicks him in the shins, causing his legs to buckle more out of shock than force, and he falls over. Tris, with a little difficulty from the injuries of their fight, gets up off the ground.

"Race you there!" she says, laughing, before she dashes out of the room. He doesn't leave himself time to be surprised, standing quickly and sprinting after her down the corridor. He sees her blonde hair flying around the corner and speeds up. Just because he cares about her doesn't mean he's about to let her beat him to the room, the same way he wouldn't let her beat him in a fight. And, to be honest, he would love to catch her and carry her into his room. There are many things people don't know about Four, one being that he has a flair for the romantic.

Four continues to run after her through all the twists and turns of the Dauntless sector, all the while wondering why his apartment feels so far away. Then Tris slips up and runs in the wrong direction, taking the longer route to their destination. Four ducks under a curtain and dashes down the dim hallway, entering the area where his room is. A feeling of satisfaction fills him when he sees Tris a few yards down the passageway from him and he stands in front of his door, catching his breath and waiting for her to arrive.

When she nears him he literally sweeps her off her feet, much to her dismay-Tris does not like being carried, thank you very much-and walks over the threshold into his standard Dauntless bedroom, complete with dim gray walls, black bedframe, and red sheets. He sets her down on the dark carpet and kicks his door closed before he gently(as gently as a man overcome with desire possibly can) takes her into his arms and kisses her, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. Their kiss is urgent and rough, with both Tris and Four struggling for dominance (both are Dauntless, after all) and their tongues clashing like opponents in battle. Eventually they calm down and collapse on top of the squashy bed, panting, worn out by a long day of work and simulations and Amity leaders and each other, and kiss each other slowly and passionately, her wrapping her limber arms around him to bring him as close to her as possible, him softly caressing the sides of her lower thighs with his fingertips.

Tris moves her hands down his lower back and inside the hem of his black t-shirt emblazoned with the Dauntless insignia, pausing to run her fingers over his perfect physique before she grasps the hem, pulls the sweat-soaked shirt up over his head, and tosses the shirt somewhere away from them; it doesn't really matter where. Four does the same for Tris, and he deftly unhooks the clasps of her plain black bra, throwing it away as well.

Tris knows she's not afraid to be with him, but it's not easy to cast off her insecurities about her body, even with someone who cares about her as much as he does. And he can tell from the way her body stiffens when he tries to go further. Four has to exercise all possible self-control to pull away from Tris, but he does, his bright blue eyes meeting her stormy blue-gray ones, and asks, "What's wrong?" When she doesn't say a word, he continues, masking the disappointment in his voice, "Do you want to stop?"

"No, this is perfect. You're perfect." Tris drops her gaze, looking down at his chest, his arms, the bed, anywhere but his eyes because she knows he'll figure out the reason if he looks into her eyes for too long, or worse, she'll blurt it out. But Tris relents and looks at him. She sees the thinly veiled disappointment in him at having to stop and reluctantly admits, "It's me who's not good enough."

Four is genuinely surprised at her words, because when he looks at her he doesn't understand how she could possibly be content with _him_ , when she's so brave and fearless and everything he isn't. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you see me, Tobias? It's like I'm still twelve."

Four runs his eyes down her figure. Maybe her frame is a little thin and her chest is a little small and she isn't what others think she should look like, but it doesn't matter to him. Because he wants Tris, not some washed-out little whore he can pick up anywhere. He wants Tris, brave, fearless Tris, just how she is.

"What are you talking about? You are _beautiful_." Tonight isn't the first time Tris has heard that phrase, but it's the first time she believes them. Because she sees the desire in his eyes, she feels it in the way he holds her, and she knows he would never lie to her. Ever. It's strange. Most of Dauntless and probably all of Amity would never think that _Tris Prior_ of all people would need to be reassured of herself once in a while, but she does. And Four is happy to be the person to do so.

This time he rolls over on his back and lets Tris lead, not wanting to push her beyond her limit. He keeps his eyes on her face and hands on her hips as she undoes his belt buckle and unzips his pants. She slides them off him, running her hands down the hair on his legs, and suddenly she realizes the only article of clothing left on Four is his underwear. And the thought makes her blush. Four feels all the blood in him rush to a certain body part as the pink color flushes her cheeks, and Tris slowly takes the waistband of his briefs in between her fingers and pulls them off of him, revealing said body part.

Tris places her hands on Four's, shifting them down to help him undo her belt buckle, unzip her pants, and when he gets to her underwear and sees in her facial expression that yes, she wants him to make love to her, he tears off her trousers and positions her in a more comfortable position straddling his legs. Tremors of pleasure shoot through his body when he sees her glistening, knowing that she is wet because of him. Still, he knows from experience, it's not good to assume.

"Are you afraid of me, Tris?" he whispers huskily.

She shakes her head no.

"Are you sure about this?"

She nods yes, unable to form a coherent phrase, but she grasps his hands and squeezes them. _Yes, Tobias, fuck me into oblivion. Please._

Four slides in, reveling at the way she fits so perfectly around him. Both of them are tentative, a little bit scared, and at first he moves slowly, easing her in. It hurts in the beginning and Tris digs her fingernails into his palms, but soon she finds herself pressing her hands against his chest, clamping down on him, and rhythmically grinding her hips against his, so he thrusts harder, eliciting moans from her that drive him insane. Four runs his fingers up and down her bare torso, golden from the beautiful beaches Amity for some reason had recreated within the compound. He taught her how to swim for real the other day, in the sort of ocean where she wasn't afraid of being tugged down and never resurfacing.

Then, remembering the advice Uriah had given him earlier, when the guys had been teasing him about being a inexperienced virgin (somehow they coerced the information from him), Four brings his right hand down to her clit and rubs it in between his middle and index fingers. He decides he rather likes the whimper that tumbles out of her mouth and strokes harder until she's crying out in complete ecstasy. Tris rakes her fingernails down his abs with her right hand and squeezes the feeling out of his other hand with her left as Four brings his upper body up to kiss her. Suddenly they're both kneeling in front of each other and he cups the flesh on her bottom while she pulls at his hair, impaling herself on him, wanting even more as he struggles to hold from reaching his peak. She wraps her legs around his body and Four finds that his second-in-command, the Stiff, is _quite_ the screamer as he thrusts one, two, three and brings her over the edge, watching her wild beauty as her eyes squeeze tight and her head rolls back. Then it's only a matter of seconds before he spills over and the two of them collapse on top of one another, his hands entangled in the tresses of her fierce blonde hair while she gasps for air against his neck.

And those three words tumble out of Four's mouth before he can restrain himself.

"I love you."

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks, because he has no idea how she feels about that particular emotion-well, it's not like they've had much time to think about it-and braces himself for the coming storm.

But Tris looks up, her cool, calm, and collected demeanor in complete shambles, and says, "I love you too." And she knows in that instant, that it's true. She loves Tobias, Four, a Dauntless, an Abnegation, a _Divergent_. And she's not afraid. She kisses him gently on the lips before she pulls back and leans her arms on his chest, studying the sharp, handsome planes of his face in silence. They watch each other, listening to their ragged breathing, their hearts beating explosively, knowing they would be content lying there in each other's arms for eternity if they could, if they didn't have an entire faction to lead and the world to fight with.

Eventually, Four breaks the beautiful silence, knowing that he'd never stop gazing at her if he didn't speak soon.

"So, only six fears now, huh?" he says softly.

For a second she appears as if she's waking up from a trance, but then she replies, "Only six fears." Then she rolls over to his side and runs her palms over the well-defined muscles in his arms, before adding, with a sheepish grin on her face, "But I think we should still work on getting over that seventh fear."

Four chuckles. "Oh, there'll be plenty of time for that. Preferably all over this compound, and especially in a few simulations I have in mind." Tris swats at him playfully before the couple once again gets lost in a bout of giggling and kissing and caressing.

And it was like that, him lying on the bed with his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if afraid that relinquishing his grip would mean losing her forever, and her lying on her side, her body meshed perfectly with his, her head on his chest where she could feel his heart beating, that the lovers fell asleep, their breathing completely in sync, lost in a dream world that was all their own.


End file.
